


Ellinor

by AmyriustrixR0se



Series: Daisies [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Childbirth, M/M, Magical Birth, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg, Mpreg Birth, Pain, Thranduil secretly wanted a kid with Bard, Vaginal Birth, but here are warnings, everyone's present for this, graphic birth, i think it's all subtle, labor, since it's magical he has female parts, there's no mention of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12035979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyriustrixR0se/pseuds/AmyriustrixR0se
Summary: AU :: Bard/Thranduil :: Mpreg :: The birth of Bard and Thranduil's child. Sigrid's concerned, Bain is calm, and Tilda is excited!Rated M just to be safe.





	Ellinor

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :)  
> I'm not sure where this idea came from. I just wanted to write a Barduil fic - mostly because of Bard... and this was made x)
> 
> Hope you like it!  
> Happy Reading!

 

"Da?" Tilda asked quietly for her father had gone silent. "Is it the baby? Shall I fetch Ada?"

He chuckled lowly in his throat. He pressed his palm to the underside of his belly. "No, the babe has merely dropped. But I am not in any pain - startled me is all."

Tilda frowned curiously. "Can I feel it?"

"Of course, my darling," he said. He held out his hand and guided hers to the taut base of his abdomen. "The babe's settled and ready to come out. Should make its arrival in the next few days. They're not as active as your sister was-"

"Are they okay?" she asked worriedly.

He smiled. "They are. Every babe is different. I remember you drove your mother mad with incessant kicking all through the night. And Sigrid was much calmer-"

"She's always calm," she snorted.

The day for Bard went on uneventful much to his annoyance - he wanted his babe to be born already. Instead they seemed perfectly content where they were. The day had soon - but not soon enough - passed and Thranduil finally entered the chambers, shedding as much of his kingly self at the door. The children didn't like it when he was brisk with them inside their own quarters.

He stepped into the common room.

The three children were peacefully spread out but it was Bard's glowing form that caught his eye. The curve of the bowman's spine was perfect and his fuller face was always a sight to behold. He noted that his mound had shifted from last he saw him - the babe was nearly ready to enter the world. He stepped up to him, wrapping his arms around his middle and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Babe's dropped," the human said.

"Mm, I can see that. How are you feeling?"

"Fine-" Then he winced.

"Just fine?" Thranduil said suggestively, running his hand up Bard's curve.

But the bowman protested. "Even Elidyn said it's risky, Thrand," he sighed. "We can't."

"You trust an elf who has not lived as many centuries as I?" He gave Bard's earlobe a warning bite. "Now, Master Bowman, Dragonslayer, father of the most annoying children-"

Bard sent him a pointed look.

"-I think your trust in me has withered."

He turned in his arms. "Well, you never did tell me the wine I was drinking was-"

Thranduil shushed him. "Let's not dwell on the past." Then he grasped his human's hand. "Let's get you in bed, my darling. You must be tired."

"Thrand-"

"And you must gather your strength for the arrival of our babe," the Elf reminded him and Bard gave in.

* * *

Days later, Bard loosened his constricting waistcoat and the first button of his trousers. He braced himself against the table, barely missing Tilda's sharp intake of breath.

"Da!" She froze in the middle of the room.

He grunted and let out a tight groan. "I'm fine, sweetheart."

"Da!" Sigrid, her older sister joined in. Her face came into his line of vision. "Is it the baby? It's coming, isn't it?"

Bard couldn't lie. His knuckles were white from gripping the side of the table. He dropped his hand to the underside of his swollen belly. "It's just small cramps. Nothing to be concerned over."

Sigrid set down the plates and stopped beside her father. "Should I send for Ada?"

He chuckled through the pain. Damn that elf. But then he himself had been so greedy that night - indulging in that foreign elvish wine. Blissfully unaware of its potent magic and then filled to the brim with heavy intoxication, he let the graceful Elvenking take him numerous times in the royal quarters. Against the wall, on the bed, over and over until he could not remember his own name or his initial purpose for showing up during the feast.

"No, no. I wouldn't want to bother him." He shifted and gave a stiff smile to his eldest.

"Da?" Tilda asked worriedly as she watched her father slowly maneuver his grown frame from the table to the chair.

"There's a ways to go, sweetheart," he grunted. "I'm fine." He reached out to her and cupped her cheek when she neared him. He ran his callused thumb over her soft skin. The corner of his mouth lifted. "Now, go. I'll be fine."

Sigrid's face was not convinced but she sent Tilda on her way, ushering the young nosy girl from the room. She glanced back at her father - his mouth was in a firm line again and he exhaled sharply. She stepped toward him. "Da?"

He turned and his face softened. "I'm fine, my love. Go on with your sister."

"You're sure?" she asked.

He gave a firm nod. "Yes."

His tunic was stretched to its limits. Forty weeks of carrying a half-elf, half-human child, and the fabrics of his adjusted clothes had been pulled taut over his swollen mound. He pulled at his collar a bit.

Then he stood from his seat, awkwardly pressing his palm to his abdomen as if that would steady the cramps. His lower back protested and his tender ankles weren't ready - he stood there, adjusting to his heavy weight. Then he carefully waddled through the chamber to the bedroom. He cursed the Elvenking as the being was practically locked away in meetings all day.

He took to pacing. His hands pressed firmly into the curve of his spine, trying to ease some of the growing pressure. He let out uneven breaths through his nostrils. Some slipped from his lips as he struggled in containing his whimpers. His pains were growing stronger and he stopped beside the table. His palm went to his curve and he let out a throaty groan as a new and sharp pain cut through him. His eyes closed and his brow creased, he gave short uneven pants with brisk pauses as the pain passed.

Relief came to him just as he heard the door of the chambers slam shut. He took a deep breath and tried to remain composed.

Bain appeared, back early from his lessons with the Captain's guard. He stopped short at the sight of his father. "Da," his voice filled with astonishment. "Should I send for Ada?"

Bard stiffly shook his head. He offered a short smile but in a strained voice said, "Not yet. I'm fine."

His "I'm fine" phrase lasted for hours and hours and hours. Sigrid and Bain had returned after Bard had yet again shooed them out - giving their father space but not veering far from his side.

Then he felt odd for a moment, his child rolling actively within him. He grimaced at the lack of room the babe had, a foot striking the taut walls of his waters then their head pushing impatiently against his pelvic bone. He pressed his fingers into his side, attempting to encourage the babe to stop. Instead they settled further and gave a push at his spine causing him to groan fitfully.

Sigrid and Bain stood from their respective perches in the room, exchanging looks. Neither spoke.

And Bard didn't know what would've bothered him more: the two not speaking or the two asking him useless questions. Suddenly he doubled over, one hand braced against the table and the other at the underside of his belly. He couldn't stop the short grunts as the pain rippled through.

"Da-"

He shook his head, hoping to stop her sentence - he wasn't ready to snap at his children. He heard a slight inhale. His tolerance grew thin.

"Should I-"

"Sigrid, please," he growled.

She stopped short and stammered her movements as if she were fighting not to move, not to aggravate him further.

He let out a brief breath, running a hand through his loose hair. "I'm sorry," he managed thickly. He extended his hand to her which she very hesitantly took. He squeezed her softly and gave her a weak but kind smile. "I'm sorry, my darling. Why don't you and Bain get out for a few hours." He couldn't reword it nicer if he tried. "Don't bother Ada. It's not time yet."

"Da?" Bain chimed in.

He shook his head again. "Go, both of you. I'll be alright."

They were reluctant to leave him but nevertheless obeyed. Sigrid bit at her nails and Bain stuffed his hands in his pockets. They refrained from returning but didn't go farther than a few feet from the chambers.

"I really think we should interrupt Ada," she voiced worriedly.

Bain winced. "But Da insists-"

"Da's just being modest - like when Tilda fell from that tree and hid her scrapes from Da because she thought it not important. He was more concerned than angry when she finally did tell him." She shook her head firmly. "We have to get Ada-"

"The baby's coming?" Tilda asked curiously, finishing an ice lolly.

"Da told you to stop eating those," the older girl scolded.

Tilda argued, "Linyr-"

Sigrid didn't want to hear the excuse. She huffed and opened the door again, shuffling her siblings inside.

In the bit his children had gone, the pains had grown stronger and more frequent. Bard tried to keep up what Thranduil had advised - that the weight of the earth would help bring the child down. He stood straight for a moment before he felt it.

There was a faint pull at the base of his belly. Then shortly after that slight tug, he felt a small pop. Fluids splashed onto the floor, running down his legs, soaking his trousers. His waters had broken.

He swallowed. Birth could be imminent. He had been a complete idiot in postponing everything. He needed Thranduil.

He heard light gasps and looked up. His face betrayed his composure. He grimaced at the stronger pains. He groaned and pressed his hand to the underside of his cramping belly.

Sigrid stepped forward, the question on her lips.

He was about to nod, to beat her to it, when Tilda sprung from the room. "Tilda!" he shouted hoarsely after her. Sigrid chased her sister and Baid stood frozen unsure of what he should do.

He let out another deep moan just as the pains spiked. He felt his babe shift impatiently.

Sigrid was close on her sister's tail, but she couldn't tighten her hold on her upper arm.

"Ada! Ada!" Tilda ignored her sister and broke away from her, running into the busy meeting room.

"Tilda!" she said sharply but her voice didn't stop her younger sister. She muttered under her breath and hesitantly trailed after her. She quickened her pace as she tried to avoid the narrowed eyes of the other elves as they interrupted.

Thranduil stood from his seat. His mouth was in a tight line. He had had a serious chat with Bard's children before the three moved into the Realm. He was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. He was careful in his features as the youngest hurried to him.

Sigrid slowed to a stop a bit behind Tilda, biting her lip. "Tilda-"

"It's Da-"

"Tilda!" she hissed. She stepped forward and gripped her sister's upper arm.

She tried to worm free. "But-" The little girl's eyes were wide and worried.

"No," Thranduil spoke over her. He glanced at Frelen. "Take these children back to their chambers."

"No!" Tilda gasped indignantly. She protested as the elven guard pulled her and Sigrid back the way they came. She fought against his hold. "Ada-"

Thranduil snapped, "I am not your Ada. I am your king. And you will address me as such." His blue eyes were icy and his lips were thin. "Now, get out. Do not interrupt me again."

Tilda looked betrayed - he had never raised his voice to them.

But he caught Sigrid's arm. He pulled her close and whispered, "I will be there shortly. Take your sister and return to your father's side."

Frelen released his harsh grip on Tilda. She stumbled from his grip and quickly spun on her heel and approached the door again. Frelen closed it swiftly just as she stepped up to it.

Sigrid caught her and pulled her toward their room again. "Tilda, stop it. Come on. Let's get back."

"But Da-"

"He's coming, alright? He is."

* * *

Bard's moans could be heard in the hall outside the chambers. Thranduil winced - labor had intensified and his pains were no doubt every three minutes. He turned to the guard. "I am not to be disturbed the rest of the evening."

Then he opened the door.

"You stubborn man," Thranduil cursed as he briskly paced into the chambers. He stepped into the bedroom where his intended was lying on the bed, covered in sweat. "You have waited far too long. I cannot help you now. You must endure the pains naturally." He rolled up his sleeves and tugged Bard's breeches down.

The bowman let out a noise of protest and tried to cover his modesty that was now fully exposed to all who were in the roomâ€¦ most importantly his three children.

Thranduil swatted his hand away. "It's nothing we all haven't seen at one point in our lives." Then he examined his feminine entrance. "You're nearly there. I say about thirty minutes to an hour more."

"An hour?" he blanched.

The elf looked arched an eyebrow. "I suggest you rest up."

Another pain cut off Bard's choice of words for the Elvenking.

"Sigrid, Tilda, Bain, I need you to gather some supplies..." he instructed.

Nearly an hour had passed before Bard groaned loudly. Sigrid and Tilda to stopped bustling about. They looked to him, taking in his heavily creased brow and rapidly rising and falling chest and his contorted face. Then they turned to Thranduil, their eyes full of worry and question.

The Elvenking calmly took his spot at the foot of the bed. He lifted the fabric that covered the bowman's lower half. He pursed his lips then he spoke, "Sigrid, prop pillows behind his back. Tilda, hold his hand. Bain, fetch me some hot water. Bard, breathe."

Bard's breath hitched at Thranduil's tone - it sounded like their babe was ready to enter this world.

Thranduil pushed one of his legs up and back, instructing Sigrid to hold it behind the knee. Bard felt his face turn even more red, except this time with embarrassment at being so exposed in front of his children. Thranduil guided his hand to the back of his other knee. Then he settled again between the bowman's nether regions.

"Bain, have you got the water?" he called over his shoulder.

The young man came in with a steaming pot. "Yes, sire," he said. He set it beside the elf who took a double-take at the formal name.

"I'll have none of this sire business," he muttered. "We are in the confines of our quarters. I am as much your Ada as Bard is." His eyes flicked to Tilda who looked down.

Bard, unaware of the tension between his lover and daughter, let out a groan and tensed up. He grimaced as Thranduil's cool fingers pressed against his newly formed birth canal. Then the elf's fingers spread him. He gasped.

"Easy. It's alright, it's alright," he soothed. "I need you to relax."

"Relax?" Bard growled. Another contraction ripped through him and he groaned throatily. "I am as relaxed as I can get," he ground out through gritted teeth.

Thranduil looked at him from under his frown. He checked him for dilation. "The babe's crowning. Sigrid, hold his leg tight. Bard, same for you," he commanded firmly. He pressed his palm to Bard's rounded belly. "Now, on your next pains, I want you to bear down and push."

Bard licked his lips and nodded. He panted and took in as much air as possible. Then he felt the pressure build up and then the roll of the wave of agonizing pain. He tensed and sat further, shooting a hesitant glance to Thranduil. The elf nodded and the bowman bore down and pushed with all his might.

Thranduil's hands were pushing at his feminine entrance, trying to urge the babe out. "When the pain is over, stop pushing. I don't need you passing out."

Bard heaved once more then collapsed back. His chest rose and fell rapidly and he tried to regain his breath before the next pains. He licked his lips again.

"Tilda, fetch him some water," Thranduil spoke.

She took off and returned in record time. She held the cup to his lips. Bard couldn't look her in the eye as he sipped. He nodded to signal he was done. She set the cup down and resumed her spot beside him.

He let out a long breath and swallowed. Then his lower back started to ache and then the ache spread into a burning pain to his abdomen. He tensed again and reluctantly leaned forward, pushing as hard as he could.

"Excellent, excellent," Thranduil muttered. "Keep pushing. Keep pushing, my love."

The bowman let go of a roar as he neared the end of the pains. His strained body rested once more. He controlled his breaths better than before and looked to Thranduil whose lips were thin. He struggled, "What's wrong?"

Sigrid looked to her Ada at her father's words.

The Elvenking shook his head. "Nothing. Tilda, put your hand on top of his belly- a little higher- yes right there." He widened the birth canal and Bard whimpered. "Sweetheart, when his next pains start, I want you to press down."

She bit her lip. "But-"

"You won't hurt him or the babe. I would do it myself but I need to guide the babe's head out." He glanced at the bowman who was struggling for strength. "Bard, when she presses down, it'll feel slightly uncomfortable but continue to push."

Bard managed a brief nod before his abdomen clenched and the pains spread. He let out a groan then pulled himself straight. Tilda's hand pressed down - her face holding a wince - and Bard felt the uncomfortable quality Thranduil referenced. He pushed down and felt a weird sensation.

Thranduil spoke, "Don't stop. Keep pushing. It's just fluids, you're fine."

A gasp that gradually turned into a cry of pain left his chest. Burning pain was all he felt. His knuckle turned white as he kept pushing, kept feeling himself stretch to birth his child's head.

"Breathe, Bard," Thranduil's voice cut into his head. "Almost done-"

But he couldn't push no longer - black splotches had invaded his vision and the voices around him were hollow, as if he were so far away from all of this.

Thranduil was speaking to him. That's all he knew. But he couldn't hear what the elf was saying, just in incoherent mutters. He did sound serious and concerned.

"Damn you," the Elvenking cursed. He growled underneath his breath. He pressed his palm against the side of Bard's tensing belly. "Bard, with the next pain, I want you to-" He glanced up at the man - his brow was creased horribly, his face was drenched in sweat, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, but his skin was grey.

"Bard-" He mustn't alarm the bowman's children, but the man was fading. He cursed again and Sigrid looked to him.

Her free arm gripped his shoulder. "Da?"

"Bain," Thranduil called. "I want you to take Sigrid's place."

The young woman looked up, ready for orders. Bain placed his hand over hers and she stepped away.

"In the cupboard on the top shelf is a bottle of honey. Bring it here."

She obeyed, quickly running and returning. The elf nodded to her pale father. She nodded and coated some on his lips.

"Da!" she cried as he started moving again. She wiped his brow with a wet cloth and held his face as he blinked groggily. "Da- You're alright."

Thranduil let go of a breath. "Over-exertion, I told you to breathe."

"Well forgive me! I've never birthed a babe before," he snapped both tiredly and angrily. Then he grimaced as a fresh contraction rolled through him. His belly tensed and his muscles clenched and unclenched, pushing at the babe. He soon was well aware of the babe's head stretching his newly formed opening.

He tensed-

"Whenever you're ready," Thranduil spoke.

-and bore down. He cried out as his child stretched him further. The burning pain was something he had never quite experienced before and at the moment, it was all he could feel.

"Head's halfway out, don't stop pushing."

Bard tried with all his might before collapsing against the pillows. Shortly after, cool water slid down his throat. He opened his eyes and met his eldest's. She smiled and lifted the cup, stopping the refreshing river. The corners of his eyes crinkled softly for a mere moment before his face contorted again.

Another contraction built and he pushed with the pain. Through his strain, he heard a delightful squeal.

"Da, I see them!" Tilda smiled. "They're so beautiful! They've got Ada's ears!"

At least someone was finding joy from all of this. He could be embarrassed about her words later.. because she was looking.. down there...

"Keep going," Thranduil instructed.

The bowman released a sharp whimper as he felt himself stretch to accommodate a pair of shoulders.

"You're alright, you're alright," the Elf soothed. "It'll be over soon."

Tilda squealed beside him. "Oh Da!"

Bard drew strength from her happiness. He bore down one final time under Thranduil's command. He felt the rest of their small body slide from him - the feeling was bittersweet to the bowmanâ€¦ though he'd never admit to anyone.

If he did, Thranduil - or worse, Tilda - would want another.

"Sigrid, you can let his leg down. Bard, you too," the blond said. He cleaned off the squirming babe who finally gave a cry.

Bard felt at ease hearing their wail.

Thranduil prompted Tilda a look to which she eagerly let out another squeal. "Da! It's a girl!"

The bowman chuckled tiredly. "Is it?" he humored.

Thranduil gently wrapped the babe in a soft cloth and set her in Bard's tired arms. "She's beautiful, my love."

He smiled and looked down at his little girl. "Aye, she is." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Sigrid and Tilda and Bain leaned over his shoulder to admire their new sibling. His oldest traced her finger along the babe's soft cheek - her smile as wide as it was when Tilda was born. Bain hadn't crinkled his nose at the news of another girl. He would resume his duties of older brother to this sister too - Bard didn't worry about him.

He worried about Tilda. Being the nosiest, the bossiest, and the youngest for so long.

But her radiant smile put his fears at ease.

He felt another twinge. He passed the babe to Sigrid. "Thranduil," he tensed up.

The blond glanced up and noted the bowman's uncomfortable look. He lifted the cloth covering his lower half again. "It's alright. It's just the afterbirth." Then he gave the tired man a skeptical look. "I thought you said you were present for your children's births."

He grumbled then groaned at the pain. "I was, but that was a long time ago. You can't expect me to remember everything-"

"Go ahead. Push," he said gently.

Bard did so and let out a sigh when he finally felt relief. He licked his lips and leaned into the pillows. He was still vaguely panting, "-I didn't expect I would have a child myself, Thrand."

The Elvenking smiled fondly at his lover.

Sigrid handed the whimpering babe back to her father.

He had not held her for more than a few seconds before he jumped, surprised at his daughter's eagerness to latch on for milk. "Thranduil, is- is this normal?"

"What?" the blond glanced up and spotted their child greedily suckling. "Oh yes," he nodded. "The wine's effects will last until she is six months. Includes lactation. Didn't I tell you that?"

The bowman glared. "No, you didn't. Ow!"

Tilda bounced on the balls of her feet. "What are we going to name her?" She looked to her Elven father who gave her a fond and curious smile - all previous harshness forgotten.

Bard wondered if she had a name in mind.

But it was Bain who spoke up. "Da, may I give her a name?"

Tilda and Sigrid gushed over the idea, and Bard and Thranduil were very surprised.

"Of course," the bowman nodded.

Bain leaned over his father's shoulder and looked down at his new sister. "Ellinor."

"Perfect," Thranduil spoke proudly.


End file.
